Kat's Rambling Mind

Looking back on my childhood, it seems like we spent a lot of time in the car; this was partially due to the fact that we lived in a very small town in a relatively small county in the northeast Georgia mountains. Cleveland, the county seat of White County, Georgia, definitely had its own appeal back then (and it still does), but it did lack a few things. So, for various reasons, at any given time in the early-to-mid 1970s we three kids might find ourselves piled into the backseat of Mama’s 1971 (’72?) chocolate brown Ford LTD, headed down highway 129 South towards Gainesville, Georgia, a mere thirty minutes away.

Gainesville had a hospital, restaurants, a big library, and two shopping malls–Sherwood Plaza and the newly built Lakeshore Mall, the largest mall north of Atlanta when it opened in 1970. Both malls had movie theaters, in addition to the Royal Theater on the town square. Yes, a trip to Gainesville was usually a treat, unless it was for a doctor’s appointment.

But another reason we seemed to be in the car a lot was because while we kids grew up in Cleveland, our parents were from Hogansville, Georgia, located in Troup County. Situated in west Georgia and dangerously close to Alabama, Hogansville was much like Cleveland in that it was a small town that hadn’t gotten too big for its britches yet. Hogansville was just shy of a three-hour drive from Cleveland back then, as Interstate 85 to the southwest part of the state hadn’t been completed yet. Our parents made the trip “back home” about twice a month, so that was a pretty long haul for three kids. I guess it was also a pretty long haul for our parents too, because again, three kids.

I remember that a few times on those trips, Daddy would stop at the Varsity in Atlanta and we’d have burgers, fries, and a frosted orange drink. Now that was a real treat. The bustle of the city fascinated me, and I loved the fast-paced buzz of the Varsity. Daddy always coached me beforehand to make sure I knew what I wanted, because when they ask you, “What’ll ya have?” at the Varsity, you’d better be ready lest you get the command to, “Step out of line!”.

Looking back, good grief, on those long drives the three of us tormented each other endlessly. Or rather, my older brother Russ tormented me, and in return I tormented our baby sister, Jennifer. There are 5-1/2 years between Russ and I, and about 5 years between Jennifer and I, so that puts 11 years between Russ and Jennifer. He didn’t aggravate her as much, so I made sure to pass along everything I’d learned from him. And yes, we did all the things you hear about–Stop Touching Me, Pull My Finger, Smell My Finger, Punch Bug, He/She Is On My Side Of The Seat, Stop Hitting Yourself–all the stuff siblings do to annoy each other.

And yes, our father did all the things Dads do–I Will Turn This Car Around, Don’t Make Me Stop This Car–standard Dad threats that usually went unfulfilled. Well, until one day, when he actually did stop the car. It seems I was aggravating the baby, Jennifer, and she was about 3 or 4 years old. The three of us were in the backseat, and Jenny decided she’d had enough.

She balled up a tiny fist and said, “See this fist?”

I sarcastically replied, “Yeah! Whatcha gonna do with it?!”

At which point she punched me as hard as she could, right between the eyes. I wailed, Russ laughed hysterically, Jennifer looked triumphant, Mama whipped around to see what was happening, and Dad?

Daddy yelled, “OKAY, I’VE HAD IT!”, and pulled over on the side of the road.

Uh-oh.

You see, we had learned at home that if one of us got in trouble and got a spanking, more often than not we would all get disciplined in one way or another, whether we were guilty or not. Daddy figured we were probably thinking about doing something stupid anyway, so he would just take a page from Barney Fife and nip that in the bud. So when he stopped the car, we clammed up, fearing the worst.

However, as was often the case with our father, once he realized what had happened, he could hardly stifle his laughter long enough to be any sort of authority figure. He started out by scolding Russ for not having better control of his two impossible sisters, then he scolded me for annoying the baby.

Because Jennifer was still so young, it was left to Mama to tell her, “Now Jenny, we don’t hit!”.

And once Daddy inspected my gushing nose and determined it wasn’t broken, he assured me I would live; then he put both hands on his knees and doubled over, guffawing. Russ started to grin, and then laugh. We must have been quite the picture on the side of the road. Feeling like my hurt pride was punishment enough, Daddy eventually got me to see the humor in the situation, and I started to chuckle as well.

Daddy asked me, “Now, Kathy, what are you going to do from now on if Jenny asks, ‘See this fist’?”

“Well, I’m not gonna ask her what she’s gonna do with it, that’s for sure!”, I ruefully replied. I learned a valuable lesson about arrogance and smart-assery that day. (My mother, Miss Janice, would say the smart-ass lesson did not stick.)

The LTD, affectionally nicknamed Brownie (we were not that creative), also had an 8-track tape player, which was cutting edge entertainment technology at that point in time. We listened to tapes of Elvis, Merle Haggard, classical music, and of course, comedy. Daddy was a big Jerry Clower fan, and by the age of 12 I had most of Mr. Clower’s routines memorized. I think that early exposure to Southern humor may have planted a bit of a seed, frankly.

Eventually, Jennifer and I got old enough to read to pass the time on the drives, and as we each got older, we eventually stopped going with our parents on the drive to Hogansville; our grandfathers had both passed by that time, and in the 1980s, both grandmothers came to Cleveland to live. Our parents still went occasionally, but their trips became twice a year instead of twice a month.

Once the grandmothers moved up to Cleveland, Daddy revived the tradition of the Sunday drive with them. Neither grandmother drove anymore, so it gave them a chance to get out a little and see the surrounding counties and the part of the state that was different from west Georgia in many ways, and alike in so many more.

And without fail, as they would drive across the mountains to Blairsville or Hiawassee, our grandma Kate (Daddy’s mother) would proclaim, “These roads are so winding, I believe a snake must have laid them out!”. Every time. And every time, our grandma Lila (Mama’s mother) would laugh.

So, I learned a lot on those long drives. Patience, and the ability to entertain myself by either bringing along a book, or daydreaming out the window while making up my own stories in my head. Humor, whether it was laughing at a comedian or at myself. Apparently what I didn’t learn was when to duck, but I think Jennifer definitely learned about conflict resolution!

Nowadays, I don’t travel much, and neither does Mama. But now and then, on a Sunday afternoon, we’ll jump in the car for a drive, just to have something to do. We do a lot of reminiscing. I wonder if I could get my siblings together for a drive these days? One thing is for sure, there would be laughter. Maybe next Sunday.